


solitaires

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Clothed Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Thrawn: Treason Compliant, Pining, Resentment, The Imperial Gossip Mill Plays Matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-10 11:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “They think you—that I…” If Thrawn wasn’t directly in his way, he might have paced the room again. Instead, he crossed his arms and refrained as best he could from tapping out a frenetic rhythm against his sides. He only succeeded partially in doing so. One finger couldn’t bring itself to be tamed, tapping away regardless. “They think I’m fucking you for political advantage.”





	solitaires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).



Nervous energy thrummed through Eli’s blood, setting him ablaze from the inside as he paced back and forth inside his quarters. They were cramped, as befit his station, and within seconds he traversed the length of them and back again. He hated himself when he got this way, when he let others get to him this way. Thrawn would notice if he didn’t get it under control before he had to go on shift with him. And then he would pick and pick and pick at Eli about it, or he’d do the opposite, ignoring it entirely, and Eli wasn’t sure which option was worse.

Thrawn often looked at him as though he was both a puzzle that couldn’t be solved and the easiest riddle in the galaxy to defeat, but Eli still hadn’t figured out where Thrawn would land with regard to him in any given situation.

He’d gotten pathetically good at anticipating Thrawn in other ways.

If someone had told him he’d one day spend his days humoring the vagaries of a man who didn’t have any interest in protecting himself or the people around him from snide, Imperial politics, he probably would’ve laughed and asked if there was anyone like that in all the galaxy to begin with. Everyone, _everyone_ who joined the Imperial machine, everyone who wanted to get somewhere anyway, gave a damn or made themselves give a damn, learned how even if they didn’t want to. Like Eli, who only wanted to run supply lines and could’ve gotten by just fine not spending his time batting aside insane rumors and suffering the disdain of idiots who didn’t like him only because he sounded like a backwater yokel. He didn’t want to play this game this intensely—which was precisely why he’d settled on the career path he’d chosen—but here he was anyway.

And it was getting to him.

Their disdain burrowed under his skin. Their rumors, too. He could scratch and scratch at their intimations and he’d only scrape himself bloody. Nobody laughed at him openly, but they didn’t have to. Eli could hear that laughter in the insinuations all the same. It sucked at his resolve, as wretched a trap as quicksand. Even now, it rang in his ears and his mind.

What he couldn’t hear was the whisper of the door as it slid open. That was his first mistake. His second was throwing a useless punch at the wall, powered solely by frustration and the need to lash out at something that couldn’t damage his career, at roughly the same moment said door opened. His third? Looking up in time to see Thrawn standing just inside the threshold, his posture pristine, hands hidden behind his back, one wrapped around the opposite wrist, Eli was sure, because Thrawn always carried himself that way.

If only Eli showed the same restraint in his own behavior. Maybe he wouldn’t be in this grand kriffing mess.

But what could you truly expect out of a man raised so far from the civilized center of the galaxy? It was a surprise he even knew how to eat with utensils. Asking him to control his temper would be like asking a wampa to have a polite conversation with you. It was impossible, required the kind of manners only a Core world upbringing and education could offer.

Or so the other officers would have you believe.

At least Thrawn waited until the door shut again to speak.

“Something has upset you.” Thrawn’s mouth savored the shape and sound of the words he spoke always and nothing was different now, even if it would have made it easier. His head tilted slightly as he considered Eli. His eyes, red and bright and keen as always, narrowed thoughtfully.

“Did anyone see you come in?” Eli asked, his own accent wretchedly coarse in comparison. Edged in stress and anger, it broadened, and Eli hated it a little bit, hated even more that it wasn’t something that just faded into the background of his existence, a forgotten, unimportant detail of his life like it was back home. Groaning, he scuffed his boot across the floor before pulling himself together, piece by hard-earned piece, until he was again Ensign Vanto, personal attaché to one Captain Thrawn, a proud officer in the Imperial Navy who wasn’t throwing a fit worthy of a toddler within the privacy of his quarters and in the presence of his commanding officer. He waved away his question with as disaffected air as he could muster. “You’re wasting your talents on me, sir.”

“I don’t know that I would consider it a waste, Ensign.”

Ensign. Always kriffing Ensign. “I just meant you don’t have to worry about me. Whatever you’ve heard—”

“I’ve heard nothing that would lead me to believe you’d do this.” His hand whirled in a carelessly elegant gesture to indicate the spot Eli had punched, as though Eli needed the reminder. “How is your hand?”

It hurt, but Eli wasn’t going to say so.

Thrawn’s mind was a rat’s maze of intuition, supposition, and deduction. He saw deeply into things, understood people in ways Eli never would. He probably understood Eli better than Eli understood himself.

Which made it all the more infuriating that he could be so thoroughly ignorant in ways even the lowliest cadet would never dare be. Thrawn’s disinterest in anything that involved people’s perceptions of them were going to get him into trouble one day and it was Eli who would be picking up the pieces, because of course he would, who else was there? And what else was he good for? Why wouldn’t this be his job, too, when it was clear he didn’t care?

Thrawn stepped forward, just a meter or so closer, but he might have crowded Eli against the back wall and it would have felt much the same. “It isn’t for you to decide what I choose to focus on.”

Eli reared back, stung. “Of course not, sir,” he said through gritted teeth. _You sound like one of them_ , he thought, uncharitable. _High Command. You’d fit right in if you’d only give yourself a chance._ It was a place Eli would never find himself if he continued this way, though it would admittedly be a stretch to say his ambitions reached to those peaks. Even so, when he saw Thrawn among the important leaders of the Empire, he couldn’t help now but see himself there, too, trailing after Thrawn like a lost dog or worse.

He still hadn’t reconciled him to the fact that he now saw himself travelling paths he never intended or wanted. It felt too much like losing. It would require admitting that Thrawn was more important to him than his own happiness and that wasn’t a reality he was willing to confront yet.

Pain lanced through him, a knife he held against his own chest. It met the resistance of his rib cage, but he was sure if he really wanted to twist it, he could. Put it all on the line here and now. The thought was seductive, exhilarating. Have it out and deal with the consequences. That would solve his problem handily. Thrawn didn’t function on sentiment. Some days, that felt like the only thing that got Eli through the day without punching a hole in the nearest wall.

And some days, even that wasn’t enough. Clearly.

He reminded himself that the Empire wasn’t a prison. He could walk away whenever he wanted. He’d paid his debts and owed Thrawn nothing.

Thrawn drew in a deep breath and scanned the room, eyes lingering on a handful of trinkets, his pad, the almost _too_ pristine line of his sheets and the thin duvet that covered them, like he hadn’t slept in his bed ever.

Of course Thrawn’s attention would find itself drawn to that: he’d always been very good at finding people’s weaknesses. Why shouldn’t he figure out that Eli didn’t spend much time here? Barely came back, in fact, could count the hours he spent here on one hand per day if he was lucky. And from that, Thrawn could figure out exactly why, if not figure out the reason. He hated it here. He preferred to remain on-duty with Thrawn. He was lonely. He had a hard time sleeping. All of those were true and Thrawn was smart enough to think of all of them.

It was infuriating. It was troubling. And the last thing Eli wanted was for Thrawn to do the math and come up with an answer, the right one or otherwise.

“It has come to my attention that you might be…” Thrawn’s mouth twitched slightly while he searched, perhaps, for the lightest approach. Eli found it infuriating that he would even bother. What need did Eli have for delicacy? It wouldn’t get him out of the mire his life had become. “…annoyed.”

Neither of them were stupid precisely: Eli now felt exquisitely aware of the extent of Thrawn’s knowledge.

Denial. Anger. Those were the responses expected of him, at least as far as High Command went. Not a single one of them appealed to him, not least of all because Thrawn was staring at him like he was the most important thing in the room, not just a toy to be taken apart and put back together. For once, he knew Thrawn was taking him seriously. Knew it intimately, knew it truly.

There was only one good response Eli could give. “Is this really worth your time?” he asked, rolling his shoulder as he turned away. “Someone wanted to rile me up.”

There. That sounded plausible.

To Eli’s great shame, they succeeded. He supposed he should be glad they didn’t succeed more thoroughly, but any reaction at all was a defeat, and the sharpness of his speech to Ensign Oylena in the halls when she suggested showing Thrawn a better time if he wanted a promotion so bad was definitely a reaction. This defeat would bite him in the ass at some point. Someone, somewhere down the line, would remember that Eli carried a sore spot inside of him with regard to Thrawn and they would exploit it mercilessly.

Assuming, of course, Eli ever got anywhere worth exploiting. At this rate, he’d be useless forever. If he’d followed his original trajectory, he might at least have been a worthy contact to cultivate, a power player to those smart enough to realize the importance of the work he and people like him did to ensure the Empire ran smoothly.

Those people were few and far between.

“And here you are riled.” Thrawn’s steps were heavy, considered, as he stepped further into the room. “I’d like to know why and how.”

Something ugly snapped and gnashed its teeth in Eli’s chest. It threatened to chew its way out from beneath his sternum, strike at Thrawn or anyone who came near. Petty and grotesque, it wouldn’t be placated by Eli’s usual reasonableness. With Thrawn in his quarters, that ugliness felt dangerous.

Eli could shake him; he could slap him; he could tackle him to the floor and—

It was Thrawn’s fault this was happening and it would keep happening if he didn’t stop doing things like this. _Why can’t you give this much of a damn about appearances instead?_ Coming to Eli’s quarters would only add grist to the already churning mills surrounding them.

“Don’t act like it makes a difference to you,” he said, shaking his head, knowing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they were the wrong ones.

Thrawn’s gaze sharpened, sealing his fate. Kriff. _Kriff._ Maybe he was as provincial as everyone believed him to be. His hand twitched toward his face, a knee jerk desire to hide his shame. Instead, he curled his fingers into a fist at his side.

 _Don’t act like it makes a difference to you?_ He might as well have begged Thrawn to give a damn about him.

Gods. How embarrassing. How pathetic that Eli would hang so much of his self-worth on Thrawn’s good opinion of him.

And Thrawn couldn’t even do him the courtesy of answering him.

Well, then. Better to get it over with.

“Do you want what they’re saying to be true?” Eli whispered, each word harsh, pulled from his throat kicking and screaming. His hand whipped through the space between them, finger all but wagging in Thrawn’s face. This was his superior officer and he was scolding him and he shouldn’t be. But he couldn’t stop himself now that he’d conquered that initial resistance. The words fell from his mouth anyway, each one louder than the last. “It’s like you don’t even see what’s happening around you!”

Thrawn at least didn’t look in the least chagrined by Eli’s outburst. “And what would you say is happening around me?”

“They think you—that I…” If Thrawn wasn’t directly in his way, he might have paced the room again. Instead, he crossed his arms and refrained as best he could from tapping out a frenetic rhythm against his sides. He only succeeded partially in doing so. One finger couldn’t bring itself to be tamed, tapping away regardless. “They think I’m fucking you for political advantage.”

Silence descended. Cold and damning, it could’ve coated the room in ice.

They hadn’t talked about all the ways Thrawn actually hamstrung Eli’s advancement within the Imperial hierarchy, but that wasn’t going to stop gossips from spreading the opposite rumor, not when it was so maliciously salacious. Poor Eli, dumb hick from the ass end of the galaxy, didn’t know when he was getting dicked for no good gods-damned reason. Thrawn was using him, sad, little fool that he was, and he didn’t even realize it. Must be a good lay if Thrawn was willing to flout regs.

The worst part was it wasn’t even true. At least Eli would be getting something he wanted if they actually were fucking.

“And if I said yes?” Thrawn finally replied, the question unadorned, the auditory equivalent of picking lint from his sleeve. “What would you do?”

“What?” Eli wasn’t above admitting to himself that the snap in his voice wasn’t entirely necessary. But Thrawn was working three steps ahead of Eli again and Eli was tired of it. For once, he wanted to be on exactly the same page as Thrawn for as long as he could stay there. Apparently he was going to have to beg for it. “If you said yes to what?”

Thrawn’s dark eyebrow arched, lifting the ridge above it slightly, doing nothing to undermine the general air of disinterest that surrounded him. Eli wanted to shake him or throw a punch, do something to get Thrawn to actually react to what Eli was telling him. But no, of course that wouldn’t work. Thrawn was stubborn and resolute in his desire to remain above it all. Eli could actually, physically wrestle him to the ground, or try to, and he would remain as distantly untouchable as a statue.

“That I wanted what they’re saying to be true,” he answered, like it cost him nothing.

He pulled the frayed edges of his patience back together, sewed them into place as best he could. It was a patch job at best, but it would hold, he hoped, until Thrawn left, intellectually satisfied—the only form of satisfaction Thrawn seemed to recognize. This was a ploy, a test. Thrawn just stepped into an interesting scenario and wanted to see it played out. That was all. Eli should get it over with and request a transfer. This was well beyond inappropriate and would mar his record if anyone ever cared enough to go after him. Nobody liked the person who fucked their way up the chain of command, though plenty of them did just that, and they were always, always caught. Always.

“You’d have to know what they were saying first.” Eli would be the first to admit his tone was churlish, childish, pissed off for the sake of it and uselessly pointed.

“I do, in fact, know what they’ve been saying,” Thrawn answered, not quite icy, but somewhere in the vicinity of it. “I simply do not care.”

Eli’s heart rattling hard against his breastbone. If it could, he was sure it would have clawed its way out of his chest. For a brief moment, he felt lightheaded and a little queasy. It was bad enough that nobody believed he deserved to be here because of where he came from. This was infinitely, terrifyingly worse. He couldn’t control where he came from, but he should control these feelings he carried. Knowing Thrawn didn’t care threatened to send him into a tailspin. And he couldn’t afford that.

“I didn’t realize anyone had come to you about their concerns.” Thrawn’s shoulders lifted in something that might generously be called a shrug.

The laugh that Eli gave in return shredded the back of his throat, climbed out of his mouth in an ugly bark, left him feeling twisted and bloody inside. “Nobody came to me with their concerns, sir. They baited me.”

“And you did nothing with that bait?” Was that judgment in his tone or curiosity? Eli couldn’t tell.

“Ignoring it seemed the most prudent course of action,” he answered through gritted teeth. His jaw ached with the pressure he asserted, molars creaking in his ears.

Thrawn’s gaze flicked up and down Eli’s body. Eli would be lying if he didn’t feel a rush of warmth blossom in his stomach, but he’d be damned if he ever admitted to it. It was always a rush when Thrawn offered Eli the full weight of his regard and, despite everything, it still affected him. “And yet ignoring it has had an adverse effect on your well-being and did nothing to stop them. You had to know this tactic would break you eventually.”

“I didn’t say it was ideal,” Eli answered, so far beyond humiliated that the criticism couldn’t register. “Just prudent.”

Thrawn made a small sound of disbelief in the back of his throat, answer enough. Eli hadn’t gone into today expecting or wanting Thrawn’s disapproval. He didn’t go into most days wanting that. But now that he was being forced to experience it, it wasn’t so bad. Wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the disapproval he felt for himself. Eli could almost hear the response Thrawn wasn’t offering. _Your definition of prudent and mine must be different,_ or some such nonsense. _Perhaps it’s a linguistic discrepancy._

“They were correct, I gather?”

“More correct than I would have liked, sir.” It was maybe cruel to confirm his feelings and insult Thrawn in the same breath, but Thrawn keeping him on this hook was equally cruel.

“Have you never once considered the possibility I wanted the same thing?”

Eli dragged in a deep, icy breath, lungs aching with the stretch of his chest, ribs widening to accommodate it. It was all well and good for Thrawn to consider this in such a rhetorical fashion, but it was actually real for Eli, not an academic exercise. It felt like such a tawdry question, like Thrawn was scoring him in a simulation and his answers only mattered insofar as he passed or failed. “No,” Eli said, pushing the truth as far as it would go. He often fantasized about that very thing, but that wasn’t the question Thrawn was asking, so he chose to answer as literally as possible. “No, I definitely did not. For obvious reasons.”

“That may have been an error on your part.”

Before Eli could formulate a response, Thrawn’s hands bracketed Eli’s face, thumbs pressed hard against Eli’s cheeks, his fingers digging into the back of Eli’s head.

For a single, impossible moment, Eli was certain Thrawn would snap his neck.

But then Thrawn pressed his mouth against Eli’s and that was as near to death as Eli wanted to get today or ever. It was almost perfunctory, an action performed by someone who felt determination rather than tenderness. Eli almost laughed against Thrawn’s mouth. He kissed like it was a tactical game, a battle to be won. He kissed exactly the way Eli always knew he would and he loved it anyway.

Thrawn’s neatly trimmed nails scraped across his neck, Eli’s body shivering in response and, oh, it felt incredible. Thrawn went from perfunctory to intense when Eli pulled him back toward his bunk—and didn’t think about how ridiculous it was that he should still be assigned a room with a bunk—only breaking the kiss once Thrawn was right where Eli wanted him.

Here was the point at which he should have asked questions, demanded answers, figured out exactly where they were going with this, what they were to one another, how this would end.

But if this was to be his only chance, he didn’t want the certainty of his future haunting every moment of this encounter.

Shoving Thrawn toward the bed, he straddled Thrawn’s lap, half pinning Thrawn’s hands with his knees. When Thrawn moved to lift one of them, Eli pushed it back into the scratchy regulation blanket, no doubt far more uncomfortable than whatever graced Thrawn’s own quarters; the Empire was so, so predictable in truly hilarious ways. Every requisition held dual meanings, reminded everyone of their place, as though an accessory should be made to reinforce the natural way of things in the Empire.

“No,” he said, maybe unnecessary because Thrawn hadn’t actually disobeyed Eli’s unvoiced demand. “I want…”

Thrawn’s eyes widened briefly before his gaze sharpened, hungry, his mouth curling in a smirk, like he’d confirmed something for himself by the sound of Eli’s voice. “I knew you were quick,” he said, quiet, almost as though it wasn’t for Eli to hear. And maybe it wasn’t. Thrawn played many things close to the vest. But he leaned back, stretched a little, disrupting Eli’s balance in small, almost inconsequential ways that still managed to send lightning flashes of pleasure through him. Eli wrapped his hands around Thrawn’s wrists and pinned them with his weight, barely managing to bite back a groan as he stared down at his own hands with Thrawn’s beneath.

Even just touching Thrawn felt good, his skin supple and soft beneath Eli’s fingertips, warm—for Thrawn anyway—and vulnerable in ways that seemed counter to Eli’s understanding of him. Before now, he’d only ever seemed cool and unmoving to Eli, statuesque in ways that sometimes felt more literal than figurative, like stone given motion. The sensation fascinated Eli and he would have liked to investigate it further, take Thrawn apart and put him back together with a much better understanding of the parts that made him up when he was done.

Eli might actually have done it if not for the way Thrawn hissed and shifted again. When Eli looked at him, he was gazing curiously back, but there was a bit of a flush on his cheeks and his hair was falling free of its careful, perfectly regulation side part. Eli mussed it further, intrigued by the softness of it beneath his fingers and in the way Thrawn’s eyes slitted shut at the touch.

“This will only fuel the rumors,” Eli said, unable to hold the words back because no matter what he told himself, he wasn’t one for self-destruction. Anyone else in his situation might have tried saying something about how attractive Thrawn looked, how becoming he looked with his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a slightly arrhythmic pattern.

Sometimes, Eli couldn’t disagree with the people who might think he was an idiot.

“You can stop if you think your career will be even more imperiled by our entanglement than it already is,” he answered, steadier than Eli felt. “Or you can accept that I’ve already done as much damage to your job prospects as possible and take advantage of what people are already thinking.”

Thrawn had never been quite so forthright about his knowledge and culpability in the stalling of Eli’s career, his whole life really, and it was strange to hear of it spoken about so dispassionately in a moment like this. Maybe Eli should have been offended that Thrawn thought of him in these terms, but the only thing Eli could find inside of himself was a vague, sad yearning for more.

Nothing they did here would actually stop what was already happening out there. Yet again, Thrawn was ahead of him. And yet again, he was right. Eli wanted to curse him, blame him. _There is no advantage in this,_ he thought, destroyed momentarily by the very thought. His fingers tightened in Thrawn’s jacket and his forehead pressed against the thick fabric of it as he bowed forward, unable to look Thrawn in the eye any longer. He felt flayed open by the realization, so sensitive that he could almost feel the imprint of the weave in his skin. What was he doing? What had he done?

What was he going to do?

Because there was no coming back from this, was there? He would never be able to forget the feeling of Thrawn beneath him, around him, here in Eli’s quarters, the scent of him pressed into his sheets. Even once those sheets were washed, the memory would linger. He’d made a mistake and now he couldn’t unmake it, could he?

Thrawn’s hand was cool on his cheek, insistent as it forced Eli to look up.

“Sir, I…”

“You were doing just fine before,” he said, encouraging. “And I am here with you.” Though Eli was perched on Thrawn’s lap, could feel Thrawn’s interest, it was the softness in Thrawn’s eyes that stirred him in equal measure. Impossible, embarrassing as such an admission was. “I know you don’t always think so.”

Arousal pooled in his stomach and his cock stiffened, trapped beneath his uniform pants, hot against his leg.

He only wanted to fuck Thrawn, not be vulnerable in his presence, not find himself turned on by the idea that he wasn’t alone in whatever hellscape of desire and need he’d found himself in since the moment he was the only damned Imperial who could speak Sy Bisti and his world fell apart for the first time. Fucking Thrawn would be easy. Comparatively.

Though Thrawn’s eyes were already red, they seemed to flare with even deeper heat. “You wish for control, I think,” he said. “It’ll only be worth it if you take it.”

”Do you ever shut up?” he said and after that it was like a flood gate opened. Every resentment he’d ever felt spilled over. Better to be angry than sad. “All you have are clever words. Out there, they think you’d stoop to fucking a subordinate.” He yanked Thrawn’s trousers open, hardly caring whether he tore the clasps free or not. He didn’t know what a Chiss would feel like in his palm, but it wasn’t so different from what he was used. The slight hitch in Thrawn’s breath was familiar and welcome, a good sign that what felt good to him would feel good to Thrawn. His touch was rough, dry. Again, he should have thought this through, maybe made a better attempt to make this worthwhile, but it was too late now. There wasn’t a single way in this gods-damned hell that he was going to stop now that he knew what Thrawn sounded like. “They think you’re that pathetic.”

Thrawn said nothing, his eyes closed shut. He must’ve been uncertain what to do with his hands because they clenched at his sides, skimmed over the sheets, occasionally tightened in them. That wouldn’t do, not a bit.

“Touch me,” Eli demanded. His voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to him. It startled him how unlike himself he sounded. For a single, blessed moment, he wasn’t some the backwater kid being held back by a selfish, self-centered.

In truth, the only source of power in the galaxy could be found in what other people gave to you. You could make demand upon demand, but if the people around you didn’t care or disregarded what you were doing, it wouldn’t matter how much you stamped your feet.

Kingdoms fell because the people didn’t believe in their rulers’ power.

Power was a fiction, bought into collectively by everyone who bound themselves up in its pursuit.

And Eli was no different. Thrawn was no different either.

It might not have been much, telling Thrawn what to do and seeing him do it. It wouldn’t get him respect from Governor Tarkin or Colonel Yularen or Commander Cheno, but he didn’t imagine anyone else had managed to convince Thrawn to pull at the clasps of his trousers, skim his hands across Eli’s abdomen as he hiked up Eli’s tunic.

Governor Tarkin would never know the harsh, whining rasp of Thrawn’s breath as Eli pulled him into a brutal kiss, fingers wrapped tight in his hair.

Eli grappled, one-handed, for Thrawn again, setting a rhythm that Thrawn emulated perfectly, apparently believing that Eli was stroking him the way Eli himself liked to be stroked. That wasn’t quite true, but it still felt incredible. Every clever twist of Thrawn’s hand sent arcs of pleasure racing up Eli’s spine, spreading across his back to curl up tight inside of him, waiting, waiting for the push it needed to send him tumbling from the precipice upon which he was balanced.

He wanted to stop. He wanted to keep going. He wanted it just like this, half-dressed and panting, and he wanted to rip Thrawn’s uniform from his body, taste every inch of him and pull him apart thread by thread.

Thrawn opened his mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to groan, maybe to do something else entirely, and Eli couldn’t handle it. If Thrawn spoke, Eli would come apart and he couldn’t do it yet, not until he’d pushed Thrawn over the edge first. His mouth sealed over Thrawn’s and his tongue stroked along the sleek, hard line of his teeth, curled against Thrawn’s own clever tongue. He swallowed each and every sound Thrawn tried to make, mentally cataloged them in case he never had the chance to hear them again.

It was entirely possible this would all blow up in his face if he wasn’t very, very careful.

And he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be worth it.

He pressed closer to Thrawn, his muscles hard against Eli’s body, rolling slightly as Thrawn rocked against him. Thrawn turned his head, gasped, before turning back toward Eli’s lips. His teeth closed around Eli’s lower lip, tugging and biting sharply into it. The sharpness served as a perfect, piercing counterpoint to the warm, pleasant heat building inside of him. It crackled and sparked inside of him, that warmth, threatened to rip him apart.

If the rest of the Empire wanted to think him a whore, they could think him a whore. At least he’d finally earned it.

He sighed against Thrawn’s mouth, a broken curse on his lips as Thrawn twisted his hand just so, threatened to—

He didn’t laugh. He _didn’t_. But it was a near thing. The urge rose inside of him, a buoy held in place by the thinnest of lengths of rope, but it kept his mind off of the way Thrawn was threatening to completely undo him with a touch, a graze, the barest tightening of his fingers around—

“What are you smiling about?” Thrawn asked, breathless. His hair shone with a bit of sweat, his face flushing slightly. His teeth flashed white against the blue of his lips. Eli wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to kiss him always.

He was thoroughly, thoroughly fucked.

It was true, though; he was smiling. The ache in his cheek was familiar, though it had been quite some time since he had reason to smile.

“I don’t know,” Eli replied, allowing himself to bite at Thrawn’s lips, trail kisses down his jaw. The light scent of his soap clung to his body, spiced by the same generic fragrance everyone else suffered through, but somehow it smelled amazing rather than rote or expected. Thousands of Imperial officers in this sector used the same soap and not a single one of them could send a throb of need through Eli when he inhaled, pushing him that much closer to completion.

 _Come on, you bastard_ , he thought, wild, uninhibited, as he clung to the ragged edges of his self-control, his hand pumping faster around Thrawn to compensate. His self-control was slipping. Slipping and slipping until nothing remained but the feel of Thrawn’s hand, the smoothness of his skin against Eli’s forehead, the slick leaking from the head of his cock onto Eli’s palm.

He’d hold off; he had to.

Eli sped up again, rough and brutal, thumb skimming across the head. “Damn you,” he chanted, repeating the words until he thought he had himself under control again. “Can’t you just—” His would-be speech trailed off into a frustrated growl. He was so close that it almost hurt to keep holding off, but he was going to try. If he could win nothing else from Thrawn, it would be this. Something to remember Eli by if this was the end.

Eli wasn’t above admitting to his own vanities from time to time.

From very far away he heard Thrawn gasp and buck against him. His touch studdered and fell away and his release pulsed, shockingly warm, across Eli’s palm.

Oh.

Like ligaments snapping and bones breaking, Eli’s orgasm ripped through him, a lightning strike as Thrawn found himself again, grabbing hold of Eli and working him through it. If Eli’s eyes weren’t already closed, he was certain he’d have whited out as pleasure wracked his body, burst across the surface of his skin, leaving behind sizzling wakes that caught Eli off-guard with each fresh wave.

“Kriff,” Eli said, shaky, breathing into Thrawn’s neck, willing his heart to still.

A giddy laugh climbed and clawed out of his throat as he rested against Thrawn, his own body cresting and falling with each breath Thrawn drew in and released. It was a soothing, almost gentle motion, and Eli didn’t want to move. If not for the way his knees ached, he might stayed.

“Kriff,” he repeated, unsure what else to do or say as he tried to roll to the side. Maybe grab a cloth and clean them up. That was the right thing to do in this situation, right?

“Remain a moment, please,” Thrawn said, wrapping his arm around Eli’s waist. His other hand hooked around Eli’s thigh, hiked it closer to Thrawn’s hip. It stretched his trousers uncomfortably across his thighs, but he didn’t dare move now. “I want there to be no misunderstandings between us.”

Eli’s heart, which was finally starting to calm, beat all the harder at Thrawn’s words. Not allowing himself to groan, Eli nodded, a flush of shame heating his face. Gods, Thrawn couldn’t wait five fucking seconds before starting in. “I know we can’t—”

“And that is exactly why we’re having this conversation now, rather than five minutes from now when you begin to think better of this.”

“You’re severely overestimating your time frame there, sir.”

“All the more reason.”

Thrawn made himself sound eminently reasonable, totally in charge, as he stared at the ceiling. His face was still a little flushed from their… what they’d done and somehow, _somehow_ he was already back to his usual self, like none of this changed anything for him. The ground wasn’t shifting beneath his feet the way it was for Eli. Eli should have known.

“Fine,” he said, clipped, pushing himself up, though Thrawn’s hands remained on his hips. He wasn’t going to have this conversation while draped across Thrawn’s chest. “What exactly do you not want me to misunderstand, sir?” _That this was a one-off? A mistake? Should we forget about it entirely?_

_I can be a professional, too, Commander, at least some of the time. Maybe just not when it mattered. Obviously. But sometimes._

It wasn’t that Eli resented Thrawn, except that Eli did. He really, truly did. It might not have been fair in this case—Eli brought as much of this upon himself as Thrawn did, more even—but it was what he felt, fair or not.

Thrawn grabbed Eli’s face, held it between his palms, his nails digging into Eli’s skin again. He brought Eli close enough to kiss. His eyes were bright, intelligent, compelling as always. It would be hard going back to admiring them from afar, if he would be allowed even that much.

“I meant what I said,” Thrawn replied. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I only care if you care. I’ll still want you if you decide the rumors are more than you wish to contend with. I will not trouble you with those feelings, of course, should that be your desire, and they will have no effect on my behavior outside of these doors, but you deserve to know the truth.” His voice took on a harder edge than usual. “I’m not here because you are a convenient…” His mouth pulled in an ugly sneer. Normally he showed little to no displeasure with the Imperial officers around him. Eli was maybe a little touched that he would do so now. “…vessel. I wouldn’t even have bothered if that was all you are to me. Do you understand?”

Thrawn’s hand settled across his back, palm warm even through his tunic. He repeated his question.

Eli understood. He understood completely. He understood that Thrawn was giving him the keys to his own destruction. Eli might have to immolate himself in the process, but if anyone found out what they were doing—if it went beyond rumor—Thrawn should care. It could throw all of his plans into disarray. Whatever power he wanted would be snatched from him if the right or wrong person took issue with this.

That meant something to Eli, that sacrifice, that tiny glitch in Thrawn’s shields that might let in a killing blow.

Eli would not abuse that trust, not for prestige or position. He knew that. Just as he knew Thrawn wouldn’t betray him in turn.

“I do,” Eli replied. After a moment’s consideration, he asked the question he’d refused to consider before Thrawn’s admission. “How shall we play this?”

Thrawn pushed himself up onto his elbows and brushed his fingers across Eli’s chin. “We do as we have always done and let them think what they will.”

“And if that’s not enough?”

It was a question with no good answer, but it didn’t need one either, and he didn’t dread it nearly as much as he thought he would. Between the two of them, they would manage. Eli already knew they could, because that was exactly what they’d been doing already.

But now Eli knew he wasn’t alone in it.

And that made all the difference.


End file.
